


Bachelor: Insomnia Edition

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aranea will also make out with everyone, Bachelor AU, F/M, M/M, Multi, Noct is contractually obligated to make out with everyone so that’ll happen, Pining, Reality show shenanigans, hot tub makeouts, potential smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-06 16:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Prompto signs up for A Royal Engagement, a one-of-a-kind reality show where eligible bachelors and bachelorettes compete to win the heart of Prince Noctis, heir to the Lucian throne... and Prompto’s best friend. Prompto says he’s doing this to be Noct’s moral support, but the truth is, Prompto is here to win, and he’ll have to go through the best and brightest of three countries to do so.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Marmolita for the idea, and for the brainstorming session that made this fic happen!

Prompto Argentum sits in front of a black velvet curtain, twisting one of the spikes on his vest while a young man pins a microphone to his shirt. Half the patches on his shoulders have to be blurred out by the censors, but his plaid undershirt has the words _Fuck the Monarchy_ stitched on the front, so they’re just tugging the top of his vest together and hoping for the best. He fidgets in his seat, touching his earrings, tracing the line of his leather wrist cuff, kicking his heels on the royal black carpet. 

“Action,” someone says, and he blinks in the sudden glare of the lights. 

“Prompto Argentum.” The producer, Vyv, a filmmaker from Lestallum who has a handshake that can crack bones, shifts in his seat. “What brings you to the set of A Royal Engagement?”

Prompto clears his throat. The lights make him feel like he’s trapped in a bubble, frozen in place. “I dunno,” he says. “I mean, I’m Noct’s friend, and I thought, you know. A big production like this? He needs somebody on his side. Someone he can depend on.”

“And that’s why you’re here?” Vyv asks. “For moral support?”

The camera blinks before him, an alien creature looming out of the white cocoon of the stage lights. Prompto grabs his wrist and twists his cuff, and the camera shifts, just slightly. 

“No,” he says. Noct’s not going to see this until it’s over, anyways. He digs his fingers into the leather. “I’m here to win.”

\---

“Good evening, Insomnia, and welcome to the first episode of A Royal Engagement!” 

Televisions throughout Lucis flicker in the gloom of an early dusk as their screens show the high, glowing spires of the Citadel of Insomnia, framed by the violet light of the Wall. Bar patrons hush. Families scurry to bring their plates to the living room. College dorms and dens and shopping malls fall silent as the camera pans down to a man in a dark blue suit and perfectly coiffed hair. He smiles, and music swells, a tinkling fairytale tune that seems at odds with the black carpet trailing down the Citadel stairs. 

“My name is Dino Ghiranze, and tonight, six contestants will arrive at the Lucian royal manor, where they will meet Prince Noctis, heir to the Lucian throne. Six may enter, but only one will capture the prince’s heart—and his throne.” Dino winks. “Let’s meet our contestants now!”

There’s a flash of glitter, and stylized skulls swim across the screen. When they clear, a young woman is sitting in front of a black curtain, hands crossed in her lap, blonde hair twisted in a heavy braid. 

“My name is Lunafreya Nox Fleuret,” she says. She smiles at the camera. It’s a quiet smile. A comforting smile. The kind that only someone raised in the spotlight knows how to make. “I’ve been in talks to be on this program for, oh, years, now. It’s an honor and a privilege to see Noctis again, and I promise that I will represent Tenebrae with all my heart.”

“This is ridiculous,” says Ravus Nox Fleuret. He hasn’t even taken his seat yet—The camera is focused on his midsection, and when he lowers himself to his chair, it squeals on the carpet. “I have no interest in marrying a conceited, coddled, self—“

“Lord Ravus,” says a voice off-screen, low and far too amused. “Lord Ravus, we’re filming.”

Ravus glares over the camera, and his jaw tightens. “Ardyn,” he says. “You son of a—“

“I doubt I’ll have much competition.” Loqi Tummelt’s smile isn’t quite so easy as Luna’s, and it breaks too soon. “Lunafreya’s nice enough, I suppose, but she doesn’t have the pedigree of a noble family of Niflheim. The prince would be a fool not to accept my proposal.”

“Ma’am, please look at the camera.”

Aranea Highwind sits backwards on her chair, leaning over the headrest. Her grey hair is tied in black ribbons on one side, and her leather pants squeak when she moves. “What?”

“The camera.”

Aranea grins at the screen. “Oh. Yeah. So Prince Noctis is pretty nice, I guess. I hear he’s, you know. One of those go-getters. Feeds the hungry, volunteers with… dogs, or something. Helps old ladies cross the street. I could get behind that.” Her smile broadens. “If you know what I mean.”

“Aw, hell, I’m just happy to be here.” Cindy Aurum tips up her hat and crosses her legs. The camera quickly scans upwards. “I heard they were doin’ this thing, right, and Paw-Paw said, _You apply, babyheart, it’ll give Reggie a heart attack._ And I thought, heck, this’ll be fun. So I applied. That prince is a cutie, anyways—You see his little butt on that Insomnia People’s magazine last year? You just wanna take him by the cheeks and—“

“I dunno.” A pale, freckled face swims into view, framed by blurred-out patches and a spiked jacket. “I mean, I’m Noct’s friend, and I thought…”

When the credits roll at last, they peel back to reveal a mansion on the edge of a lake. The mansion itself is built in the old style of the Insomnian nobility, with sloping roofs and bamboo doors, and one or two of the Niflheim candidates stop to smile at the way the doors slide open. Lunafreya takes off her shoes the second she walks in, but Loqi takes three steps before he has to double back. 

“Busted,” Prompto whispers, and Luna smiles. The camera lingers on the pink flush on Prompto’s cheeks, and closes in as Luna touches his ear. She leans in, but the crew are too slow to catch what she says. Prompto blushes darker still, and stumbles out of his shoes. 

They sit in a row on a long, black couch in the living room, surrounded by skull motifs and black candles guttering in metal bowls. Cindy keeps craning around to stare, and uses Loqi’s shoulder as leverage to boost herself over the edge of the couch. 

“Look at that,” she says. “There’s a fish in the wall.” Prompto, Aranea, and Luna turn to stare, and the camera quickly pans to a wall aquarium, where a fish that looks like a miniature version of the leviathan undulates softly.

“That’s Franklin,” Prompto says. “Noct’s had him since he was three or something.”

“Oh, he used to draw pictures of him in our letters,” Luna says. She smiles at Prompto. “He used to add little speech bubbles, and—“

Ravus clears his throat. Loqi shoots Prompto a sharp glare, and he sinks in his seat. Dino rounds the corner, and the others settle down as he bows, holding out his arms to the opposite door. 

“Ladies and gents,” he says. “His highness.”

When Noctis Lucis Caelum walks in, the music swells a second time. He’s dressed to the nines, elegant in a black suit with gold accents, and his hair is carefully styled out of his eyes. He glances around the room, and his gaze stops for a moment on Prompto. Prompto gives him a thumbs up, and his lips twitch. 

“Hey,” he says.

Ravus pinches his mouth in a thin line. Viewers throughout the country catch Prompto mouthing _hey_ back. Luna lifts a hand in a brief, reserved wave, and Noctis rocks forward on his heels. His hands clench behind his back.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, and Luna smiles warmly. He’s ignoring the camera, which slides around the couch to get a good shot of his face. “You look.” He clears his throat. “You look good.”

“Dude,” Prompto whispers, and Noctis looks up at the camera.

“Oh,” he says, to the amassed viewers of multiple countries. “Right.”

—

It’s a disaster. Prompto is forced to watch Noct smile in a polite, disinterested way at Loqi, ignore Ravus’ pointed glare altogether, stumble over himself in front of Aranea, and rub the back of his neck when Cindy, half draped over Aranea with one foot on the end of the couch, waves and winks. His one-on-ones are halfway scripted, with cue cards on hand in case anyone runs out of questions to ask, but by the time Prompto’s turn is up, Noct looks like he’s facing a stampeding behemoth head-on.

“Prompto,” he says. He grabs him by the collar, and they go stumbling into the curtains. The camera follows them. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this.”

“What? I thought you were briefed, man,” Prompto says. The choosing ceremony for the heir has been a Lucian tradition for centuries. Prompto’s mom still breaks out the DVD of Queen Aulea proposing to Regis on the Citadel roof when she wants to cry for fun. It’s practically a law. 

“No, I get that,” Noct whispers. His gaze darts to the camera, and he drags Prompto’s head down with a hand. They’re close enough for his nose to brush Prompto’s cheek. “It’s Luna. It’s been… it’s been so long, Prompto. What if I fuck it up? What if she… we can’t be honest, because there’s gonna be a million people analyzing everything we say tomorrow? How am I gonna…”

Prompto covers Noct’s microphone with one hand, and his with another. Noct’s chest heaves against his fingers. “It’s cool,” Prompto whispers, as the cameraman curses under his breath. “Leave it to me.”

Ten minutes later, Noct and Luna sit on the balcony overlooking the garden. Luna’s hand is in Noct’s, and when she looks his way, he quickly turns to stare at the moon.

“I can’t believe you’re—“

“Fuck,” Prompto says. He pops up from the garden trellis, hanging onto the balcony with both arms. “Fuck, shit, damn. Hi, Luna, don’t mind me, I’m here for the censors. Penis.”

“...Pardon?” Luna whispers.

“They can’t air profanity,” Noct says, as Prompto squawks out the word _Dickballs_ in front of his best friend and an actual, honest to god princess. “So anything we say when Prompto’s cursing is gonna be trashed.”

“Oh,” Luna says. “That’s… rather thoughtful. Thank you, Prompto.”

“Any time. Cock.”

Luna barely manages to keep a straight face, but when Noct does whisper a question in her ear, she considers it thoughtfully. “Yes,” she says. “It _is_ uncomfortable. We all know Ravus is in the emperor’s pocket so long as I’m within reach—“

“Shit,” Prompto says. Dino appears from behind the cameraman and flaps his hands at Prompto. “Fuck damn hell vagina.”

“So if he doesn’t have to worry about you anymore—“

“Hell Vaginas would be a pretty good band name, actually.”

“Then he’s a wild card,” Luna says. “I may be able to convince him.”

“Prompto!” Dino hisses. “Get. Yer butt. Out. Of the shot.”

“Oh, Prompto!” Luna says, as though she’s only just noticed he’s there. “You have to join us. Have you tried the wine?”

“Not yet,” Prompto says, and heaves himself over the balcony. Dino groans as Noct gives up his seat, dragging over a small pillar to perch on while Luna pours a third glass of wine. When she passes it over, she leans in and pats Prompto on the cheek. 

“Sweet boys,” she whispers, and Prompto looks at Noct, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed. Noct gives him an equally panicked look back. 

It’s all over the news the next morning. They aren’t supposed to watch the news, technically—They’re supposed to go about this unbiased, especially Noct, but Cindy does something to the radio that shouldn’t possibly work, and the next thing Prompto knows, he’s eating breakfast with Luna, Cindy, and Ravus while radio pundits analyze their every moves.

“This is ridiculous,” Ravus says, methodically tearing through his second plate. He’s stacked his food uncomfortably high, and Luna eyes it with more than a little trepidation. “We aren’t exotic animals in a cage, trying to flounce our feathers for the closest peacock.”

Luna stares at her fork. “That’s an image of you I’d rather not picture, Ravus.” Cindy grins, and Ravus goes a mottled shade of pink. She takes a bite of his eggs, and he shoots her a baleful look. “You’ll make yourself sick,” she says. “I’m helping.”

“There you go, trying to mother me again.” He inches the plate away, and jerks. The table rattles, and Prompto glances down fast enough to see Luna’s feet swinging innocently under her chair.

“Honestly, Ravus,” she says. “It’s like they’re not feeding you.”

Ravus goes silent.

“Hey, baby punk,” Cindy says, a little too brightly. Prompto blinks, and she gives him an exaggerated wink that does something unholy in the pit of his stomach. “How about you and me ditch the stylists today. I’ll do you up real pretty.”

“I don’t know,” Prompto says. Luna’s hand moves under the table, and Ravus twitches his arm. He stands, his lanky body unfolding, and Luna sighs. “Maybe—“

“You’ll love it,” Cindy says. She takes him by the hand and smiles, cheeks dimpling. “Promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

That night, when the two-hour special appears on televisions and tablets across the country, Noctis Lucis Caelum stands before a covered tent, hands clasped behind his back. The candidates step out of the manor, flanked by a long row of garden trellises covered in black roses and crystal skulls. They look like the fashionable heroes of a fairytale, emerging from the dark forest and into the blazing light of a sunny lawn. When Prompto walks out, striding next to Cindy with the slightest swagger to his step, Noctis snorts.

Dino glances at Prompto, then at Noct, who slowly folds over his knees, wheezing softly. His face is ruddy with tears, and when the camera zooms in for a closeup, he lets out a high-pitched whine.

Cindy grins and gestures to Prompto, both arms out, and Prompto strikes a pose. Noct doubles over a second time.

“Honestly,” Loqi says. The camera sweeps around Prompto, taking in his styled hair, the smoky eyeshadow, and his borrowed crop top. It stops for a moment on his shorts, which are a deep red, with golden lettering across the back that spells _Juicy._ Prompto twists, and Noct makes a sound like a dying seal.

Luna cranes over to look, and the sound of Prompto smacking his own ass is like a clap of thunder to the microphones.

“W-welcome,” Noct gasps. He presses his hands to his eyes. “To the—the—“

“Second day of our grand event,” Dino cuts in. His shoulders tremble, and he slaps Noct on the back. “Today, we’re gonna have a little competition to see which o’ youse guys are good enough to go on a date with this one.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence as the crew waits for Dino to get back on script. When he doesn’t, a group of extras in the background yank off the covering of the tent, revealing a fenced-in square of grass positively seething with fat, burbling baby chocobos. Prompto lets out a high squeaking sound through his teeth.

“Yeah,” Dino says. His fingers twitch towards his shoulder. “So we’re gonna let these little suckers out, and whoever puts the most back in your pens—“ he gestures to a series of small enclosures to the left, “win a special date with Prince Charming. One. Two.”

“Oh my gods,” Prompto whispers.

“Three.”

The gates open. Chocobos bob and stumble out, some rolling over the grass, others bouncing softly in place, one or two attempting to get airborne on their stubby little wings. Aranea laughs until she cries. Cindy strides into the thick of them with a purpose, and Luna takes a few hesitant steps forward, holding out a hand to a particularly round chick, which pointedly ignores her. Noct sees her crestfallen look, and tries to walk around Dino, who holds him back with an arm. 

Loqi stares, aghast, as Prompto drops to his belly, where he is instantly swarmed. The camera closes up on his ass, where a chocobo chick is settling down directly on the _Juicy_ writing, ruffling their feathers and making a sound rather like _horckle._

“This is the best day of my life,” Prompto says.

Luna manages to capture one chocobo. Aranea has three. Ravus accidentally scares two off frame and looks almost wounded, and Loqi is struggling to keep up with Cindy, who has eleven and counting. 

“I still won,” Prompto says, when the crew gently ushers the chocobo chicks away and Cindy is declared the winner. Noct leans over to help Prompto up, and Noct’s murmured comment of, “Lookin’ real juicy there, man,” becomes a full-fledged meme in less than a minute. 

—

“I don’t know, pumpkin,” Cindy says, lying half on Prompto’s lap, half on Aranea’s, a glass of champagne in both hands. “The date was nice, I s’pose.”

Nice is an overstatement. Prompto and the others stood back to watch Cindy and Noct’s private date from the cameras at the manor, and so far as Ravus and Loqi were concerned, Noct might as well have been a decorative vase for all the talking he did.

“He’s just nervous,” Luna had said.

“Look, he bowed.” Prompto pointed at the screen. “He only bows in self defense.”

Of course, Noct had to kiss her at the end of the date. Prompto’s pretty sure it’s in the rules somewhere that Noct can’t get out of this without kissing everyone at least once. But the kiss was chaste, almost too quick for the cameras to catch, leaving both of them blushing and silent.

“He can get kind of stiff if he doesn’t know you,” Prompto says, when Cindy just sighs. Aranea grins.

“Really? We’ll have to stay strangers, then,” she says.

“I’d stay strangers with _you,_” Cindy says, a little plaintively. Aranea pets her hair and makes soothing noises, and Cindy lifts a glass so Aranea can take it.

“Speaking of stiff,” Aranea says, and gestures to the living room doors. Noct and Luna are sitting a few feet apart on the bench of a piano, Noct looking like a statue frozen in a rictus of terror, Luna bent over a cassette player, which looks about as old as she is.

“Bless her heart,” Cindy says. “She’s tryin’.”

“We should check in on them,” Aranea says. She winks at Prompto. “You know. Examine the wild Prince Noctis in his natural habitat.”

“Then you’ll need to stake out his bed,” Prompto says without thinking, and spots the blinking light of the camera coming his way. Cindy rolls off him, and Aranea gets up, gesturing for them to lay low.

They creep up to the door together, all three of them a little wobbly from the champagne, and stop just at the doorway, crouching like inebriated cats. Cindy is using Prompto’s shoulder as an armrest, and Aranea has an arm wrapped around Cindy’s waist.

“Do you remember?” Luna asks. Music plays from the cassette player—A soft piano melody, with the occasional discordant note as the pianist fumbles. “Mother recorded it when you were visiting. You were sitting on one end, and I was—“

_“No,” _snaps a young girl’s voice over the music. Noct’s head jerks up. Luna smiles. _”You’re doing it wrong.”_

_”I’m not! It’s like this!” _a boy cries. The music stops, and the boy plays a part of the melody. _”It’s supposed to repeat twice.”_

_”It repeats once,” _says the girl. _”Here, let me show y—“_

_”Play your own dumb music, then!”_

Noct covers his face with both hands, and Luna laughs as the sound of two children furiously trying to play the piano at the same time punches through the air. It dissolves into static, and she reaches over to the book on the piano stand and turns the cover.

“I thought we might want to try again,” she says. 

The smile Noct gives her, all bright and sudden and earnest, makes something clench in Prompto’s chest. He shrinks back a little as Luna raises her hands to the keys.

“They’re cute together,” Cindy says. Her voice is almost gentle, and she turns to place a hand on Prompto’s cheek. His face burns. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Why’re you sorry?” he squeaks. “I’m just here for moral support, you know?”

Aranea sighs above him. “Yeah. That’s right. Oh, fuck, they can hear us.” She latches onto Cindy and yanks her behind the door, where they fall in a tangle of suntanned limbs and leather. Prompto is left staring in shock as Luna and Noct twist around, brows raised.

“Sorry,” Prompto says. His voice comes out as a croak. “I’ll, uh. I’ll give you space. Sorry.”

Luna leans down to whisper in Noct’s ear. He starts playing again, and she gingerly gets up from the bench. Prompto pushes himself to his feet, and he stands, just a jumbled mess of nerves and shame, as Luna holds out her hands.

“This song really does work better when there’s someone to dance to it,” she says.

Prompto gapes. Luna is dressed like a goddess in a painting, deep pink silk draped over her arms, and a strapless white gown with a plunging neckline that Prompto tries not to notice. He forces himself to breathe, and she takes his hands.

They float into the manor. Noct is still playing, smiling at them with his eyes, and Prompto almost staggers into Luna as she takes his waist in one hand.

“I’ll lead,” she whispers.

He drifts in space. The cameras still follow him, but for the first time, Prompto doesn’t track them out of the corner of his eye. All he can see is Luna, her light hair twisted in a thick braid, diamonds sparkling at her ears. Noct, looking nothing like the guy who crashes at Prompto’s place for pizza and video game marathons, dressed every inch like a prince. 

Cindy’s right. They’re meant for each other. It would be wrong for Prompto to get in the way. Selfish. Cold. He can’t do that to them. 

“Prompto,” Luna says. She stops, and the world spins, twisting around them. “What’s the matter?”

Prompto takes a shaky breath. “Nothing,” he says. She pinches her lips into a thin line. “It’s just. I mean. You’re beautiful.”

This time, it’s Luna’s turn to blush. 

—

No one can handle it, least of all the editors. Pink roses frame Luna’s face as she covers her mouth, and when Prompto rubs the back of his neck and looks askance, the edges of the frame go soft. Even the shot of Noct, looking wistful with his head on one hand, has a slightly glittery effect to it. 

Then Ravus comes in. He’s dressed in a variation of his military uniform, and he looks at the three of them with open disappointment, brows raised high.

“I’ll need a minute with the prince,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Luna whispers, as she and Prompto stumble towards the door. Ravus says nothing.

The camera cuts to Noct, sitting with his back against a black curtain.

“Yeah, it was pretty rude,” he says. “Who just interrupts one-on-one time like that?” There’s a silence, and Noct narrows his eyes. “What? Yeah, so maybe Prompto kind of... he didn’t interrupt. He was part of it. What do you mean, part of it how?”

The next shot is of Noct and Ravus sitting as far from each other as the living room couch will allow. Ravus woodenly takes a sip of his drink.

“Wow,” Noct says. “I’m real glad I missed talking to Luna for this.”

“You will call her _Lady Lunafreya,_” Ravus drawls. “She deserves to be called by her title.”

“And what’ll I call you?” Noct asks. “Traitorous asshole?”

The screen goes black.

“I—I despise him,” Ravus says, sitting in the same confessional booth as Noct’s. The top buttons of his coat are undone, and his hair is mussed on one side. “He’s shallow, flighty, can’t even compose himself with a modicum of dignity... it’s a miracle that anyone can stand him more than a moment.”

The scene cuts to Noctis and Ravus on the couch, bodies writhing as Noct digs his hands in Ravus’ hair. Ravus gasps for breath as Noct grinds down, and he clutches at Noct’s shoulders, digging at the expensive cloth of his suit.

“Fucking dick,” Noct says.

“Go...” Ravus captures Noct’s mouth, and they roll off the couch with a thud that makes the piano strings tremble. “Directly to... hell...”

“Yeah,” Noct says, back in the confessional booth. His face is pink, and he keeps trying to fix his hair with his fingers. “Anyways.” 

The first skull ceremony happens that night. It’s a tradition, passed down from an older, more brutal time when suitors were given the skulls of their enemies as signs of affection, then bedazzled and commercialized until it ends up with Noct standing in front of a pedestal full of crystal skulls.

He lifts one in his palm. It glitters in the light of the candles around him, and when he hands it to Luna, she sighs with relief. Another goes to Prompto, who is still wearing his _Juicy_ shorts, then Aranea, then Loqi, who smiles in triumph.

Noct gives the last skull to Ravus. Neither of them look each other in the eye.

“Aw, baby,” Cindy says, when Noct turns an anguished face her way. “Don’t you worry about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Noct says. “You’re... you’re really great, Cindy. I mean it. It’s just...” 

“Sometimes the spark ain’t there,” Cindy says. She holds out her arms, and Noct steps in for a hug that lifts him an inch off the floor. She squeezes him tight and whispers into his ear, so softly that the editors have to write subtitles on the screen.

“You’re welcome,” she says. Noct’s brow furrows, and he mouths, _For what?_

Cindy jerks her head towards Prompto. “For Mr. Juicy,” she says, and winks.

Noct bows his head, shoulders shaking, and Cindy pats the back of his head.

“That’s right, baby,” she says, as Noct laughs helplessly in her arms. “I’m a national treasure.”


End file.
